


Pinky-Promise

by codewordpumpkin



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crack Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-07 19:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21222647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codewordpumpkin/pseuds/codewordpumpkin
Summary: Injected with a substance that brings out the child in him, Red - the man who had always kept his feelings close to his chest - suddenly has his heart on his sleeve, and Elizabeth is tasked with babysitting the one person she was supposed to hate.





	Pinky-Promise

**Author's Note:**

> I had intended to keep this only on Tumblr (where I posted this a few days ago) but man-child Red kept nagging at me, and I wanted to let him know I was not ashamed of displaying him on AO3.
> 
> Also, this was my first shot at a crack-fic, which probably explains why the seeds of this ridiculous premise bloomed with angst.

Her phone buzzed and lit with the name _Nick’s Pizza_ for the umpteenth time—which she silenced with practiced ease and efficiency, barely giving it a glance before returning her attention to the open file on her desk.

Some might say she was being childish. To them, she would say:

_The man killed my father._

That would be sure to shut them up.

And besides, if he was truly calling because of an urgent matter, there were other ways to get in contact with her. So far, there had only been one text, and it had consisted of only one word: _Lizzie_.

When guilt began to fester in the pit of her stomach, she had to remind herself that the only one who should be feeling guilty here was _him_. Regardless of how many times he called her or sent her ominous texts of her name, she would continue to ignore him. And when ignoring him became no longer possible, she would continue to hate him.

The self-reminder served to boil her temper from annoyed to angry, and when the distracting vibration began once again, she was about ready to smash the device to bits. But just as she gripped her phone with an intensity that was probably more damaging to her own hand, the unknown number on the display had her answering with a hesitant, “Hello?”

“Elizabeth.”

“Dembe?”

“Raymond would like to speak with you.”

“Does he have a new blacklister for us?”

“… No.”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “Well, until he does, please tell him I’m busy. Thank you, Dembe.”

“Eliza—”

She winced, as she hadn’t meant to hang up on him like that. But what was done, was done. At least she had gotten her message across—as if the ignored calls hadn’t already been a huge hint.

Although she didn’t know how long this reprieve from Red would last, she was determined to use the time to catch up on her neglected piles of paperwork. She had just gotten a rhythm going when she was startled by the sound of a knock, ink now smudged on both the sheet and her hand.

“Yes?” she called out, using a tissue to dab at the fresh stains.

“Elizabeth.”

Her head snapped up at the deep voice. She frowned when she saw Dembe, standing tall and firm in the now open doorway of her office. It hadn’t even been thirty minutes since they last spoke; why was he here now? And where was Red? Despite the grudge she was determined to hold, she began to worry, wondering if something had happened to the infuriating man. Was he hurt? Had someone taken him? She was going to kill him if he had let Madeline Pratt play him once again—singular talents be damned.

She didn’t know what to say except, “What’s wrong?”

Dembe opened his mouth—then closed it. Clenching his jaw, he blinked, and blinked some more, all the while remaining silent and looking as bewildered as she was starting to feel.

Then, she heard it—what _it _was, she wasn’t exactly sure, but it stuck out in the tense quiet of the small room. When they both failed to acknowledge it, however, it repeated itself more loudly this time, and she recognized it as someone clearing their throat.

Dembe sighed. “Raymond.”

A few moments of… _nothing _passed before the man himself graced them with his presence. He shuffled almost meekly and stopped once he was just barely inside her office.

Immediately, she noticed there was something off about him. He didn’t look physically different, as far as she could tell; the fedora, the three-piece suit, the polished shoes—it was all there. But something in his demeanor made him seem… small. Where was the man whose soul and spirit was greater than life itself?

Because this wasn’t him.

“What’s going on?” she said, trying to hide her concern behind her neutral tone.

“Raymond wanted to see you.”

“Did not.”

She felt her brows climb up her forehead, taken aback by Red’s petulant outburst. Cocking her head to the side, she noticed the way his gaze had moved from his feet to the wall, staring at nothing in particular. His chin was high and proud, and his mouth was pursed in a tight pout.

“Okay,” she slowly drawled, unsure what to make of the situation, “well, as I told Dembe earlier, I’m busy, so unless this is about work…”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Her temper flared.

“If you’re here for no other reason than to waste my time, you can leave,” she snapped, unconsciously tightening the grip on her pen.

To her utter shock, a hot flush rose on his cheeks—something she had not witnessed. Ever. Even when she had confided to him about her forced sex-life with her fake husband. Even after it had been made painfully clear that he had seen parts of the surveillance feed that featured said sex-life with said husband.

She sighed. “Why are you really here?”

This time, it was Dembe who cleared his throat. “Raymond wanted to see you.”

“So you’ve said, but—”

“It’s not my fault. Dembe dragged me here.”

“That is not true, Raymond, and you know it.” She was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of that burning glare. Even Red seemed to cower at the force. “I brought you here because you were upset when Elizabeth refused to speak with you, and then you—”

“Did _not_.”

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” She stared down the two men. “Somebody start talking. Now.”

“Raymond was injected with something during a meeting with an associate.”

“Injected? With what?” she exclaimed, admittedly louder than she would have liked.

“Unknown.” He paused. “But the effects… It seems…” She had never seen him this flustered before. “He has essentially turned into a child.”

“Hey!”

“A child?” She laughed uncertainly. “Is this a joke?”

_Dear God, let this be a joke_.

He shook his head.

She gulped, her throat suddenly parched. “Well, how long until the effects dissipate?”

“Unclear.”

“Unclear?” she repeated, sounding incredulous to her own ears. How was he so calm? She was two seconds away from having a panic attack! “What about the person who injected him? Where is he? Or she?”

“Dead, unfortunately.”

“Dead,” she exhaled shakily, “okay. It’s okay. We’ll…”

She came up blank.

_What the hell were they going to do?_

“The good news is…”

“Yes?” she said, eager for anything that might be considered _good news _at this point.

“His memory appears to be fully intact. He is still Raymond—just… childish.”

“Right. Okay. Yeah, that’s good.”

“Stop talking as if I’m not here!”

Ignoring him, she asked Dembe, “What do we do? Just wait it out?”

Surely, there was a plan far more complex than that. Surely, he—

“Yes, for now,” he replied seriously. “I am going to try and get answers. While I do, you will need to watch him.”

“What—like babysit him?”

“I don’t need a babysitter!” the man-boy huffed.

“Can’t you just choose someone from the hundreds on your payroll?” she continued.

“He wants only you.”

“_Do not_.”

She was going to cry. Soon. She could feel it.

“Okay… Okay.” Aggressively rubbing her temples to avoid pulling out her hair, she tried to calm herself down. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Do you need the task force to help with anything?”

“Not now, but I may need some assistance later.”

“Keep me updated, please.”

He nodded, then turned to Red, who was evidently still grumpy. “Will you be all right?”

“I’m not a child,” he said haughtily, only to prove otherwise by pouting like a duck.

“Of course.” To Dembe’s credit, he didn’t break down laughing. But she swore she detected an amused glint in his dark eyes when he wished her, “Good luck, Elizabeth.” 

For the first time, she was annoyed with the stoic man.

All too soon, he was gone, and she could no longer stare blankly at the door, hoping he would return and retrieve his well-dressed child.

Covering her face with her hands, praying this was all just a terrible dream, she hesitantly peeked through her fingers.

It wasn’t a dream.

“Um…” She could feel the panic begin to spread again. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Without waiting for a response, she ran out of the suffocating room and didn’t stop until she crashed into someone and nearly fell on her ass.

“Whoa, Keen!” He grabbed her shoulders and waited until she could stand on her own. “You all right?”

“Ressler,” she panted, unsure if it was due to the run or the panic, “R-Red, he—”

“Calm down,” he said, rubbing her arms in a way she assumed was meant to be soothing. “What happened? I know Reddington’s fine because I saw him stroll into our office… Unless… Did he have a heart attack or something? Do we need to call an ambulance? Keen—”

She shook her head, willing him to understand what she couldn’t seem to say. “No, no, he’s fine—well, not fine, but—oh, God, Ress, I can’t believe this is happening—”

“Shh, Liz,” he pulled her into a hug, “look, whatever it is, it’ll be fine. Just tell me what’s going on, and—Reddington?”

Flinching, she withdrew herself from her partner’s hold and turned around just in time to see Red fleeing the scene with a pace that was nearly a sprint.

Sighing, she muttered, “I have to go.”

Dismissing Ressler’s concern with a forced smile, she walked over to Aram’s desk.

“Aram, can you pull up the security feeds? I need to know where Red is.”

“Mr. Reddington?” he asked nervously, already on task. “Is something wrong?”

“No, he…” She shook her head, unable to muster the energy. “He’s somewhere in the building. Find him, please.”

It only took a few moments to locate him on the screen, and another few minutes to locate him in person.

There he was, standing at the bottom of the stairwell in the dimly lit corridor, glaring at the ground with his arms crossed and appearing for all the world like a toddler about to have a tantrum.

“Red.”

He startled but pretended not to hear her.

“Red,” she said softly, thinking of the best way to approach, “what’s wrong?”

He tensed as she got closer, and he went perfectly still when she crouched before him, taking one of his hands in both of hers.

“Will you please look at me?”

He reluctantly did as requested.

“Why didn’t you stay in my office?”

“… Because you weren’t there.”

She didn’t know why she felt a pang at those words.

Tightening her hold on his hand, she said, “Why are you upset?” When he continued to stew in silence, she added, “Should I call Dembe to come and pick you up?”

“No!” Clearing his throat, he repeated, “No.”

“Will you tell me what’s wrong, then?” Awkwardly shuffling his feet, he tipped his head so the fedora would shadow his face. “Red?”

“You were hugging Donald.”

“Oh, that—that wasn’t…” Why did she feel the need to explain herself? “Why does that bother you?”

“Because you never hug me,” he muttered, voice so small it barely registered. “And I want you to hug only me.”

Was that what this was? The man who considered jealousy to be a base emotion was actually _jealous_?

But… was this coming from the man or the child?

“You’re laughing at me,” he whined, an impressive scowl on his adorably _red_ face.

“No, I’m not,” she said, tugging down the corners of her lips that had curled up on their own accord. “I promise.”

“… Pinky-promise?”

She nodded, doing her best not to laugh. “Come here, Red.”

Rising to a stand, she opened her arms wide and patiently waited for him to step into her embrace. When he did, she reveled in the way his entire being seemed to relax, and she couldn’t help but smile when his own arms shyly came up to wrap around her waist. Neither of them seemed to care when his fedora fell to the ground, too preoccupied with the way his face was buried in the crook between her neck and shoulder. She would have also dismissed the quiet sniffle, but her now damp skin proved impossible to ignore.

“Red?” Carefully pulling away, just far enough to see his face, she was shocked to see that his cheeks were stained with tears. “Are you still upset with me?”

He shook his head, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands.

“Then, why are you crying?” she whispered, wishing she could make him feel better.

“I’m s-sorry.”

Frowning, she tilted her head. “What for?”

“For… f-for,” he hiccuped, “for S-Sam.”

Her heart stopped. And sunk. And she couldn’t _breathe_.

“I…” She snapped her mouth shut, not knowing what to say.

He glanced at her from beneath wet lashes, his lips trembling. “You hate me.”

“I don’t…” Her voice cracked. “I don’t hate you.”

“You d-do. But I did it f-for Sam… pinky-promise,” he insisted, a fresh wave of liquid salt staining his skin and scalding her heart. “He was h-hurting, and you’re not supposed to let the people you l-love hurt.” She didn’t realize she had closed her eyes—or that she had been crying—until she felt his warm fingers softly stroke her face. “Now you’re hurting… and I’m not supposed to let you hurt.”

Her nose was stuffed at this point so, swallowing past the massive lump in her throat, she exhaled a low breath through her mouth and blinked her eyes open. “I understand,” she said, her words barely a painful whisper. Grasping his hand and keeping it pressed to her face, she smiled a wobbly grin. “I forgive you, Red.”

His breath hitched. “You do?”

“I do. Pinky-promise.”

The tension seemed to drain from his body in the next instant. His shoulders slumped, his eyes drooped, and she could see that the emotional purge had taken its toll.

Without letting him go, she walked the few steps it took to reach the closest wall, and with her back against the cold surface, she slid down until her bottom reached the floor. She stretched her legs out in front of her and patted her thigh. “Come on, rest your head on my lap.”

Slowly, tentatively, he curled up on the floor and did as told, snuggling against her in a manner so innocent, she felt her heart breaking all over again. They stayed like that without a word: her, stroking his temple, his cheek, the short fuzz of his hair, and he, snoring softly and drooling on her pants.

She had no idea how long they had stayed like that, but her legs had long since fallen asleep when he woke with a start. He blinked groggily up at her, rubbing his eyes as if he didn’t believe what he saw.

“Lizzie?” He squinted, suspicious—of her or himself, she couldn’t say, but she was relieved to see that it was the Red she knew that was now staring up at her.

She smiled. “Hi, Red.”

After a few seconds of silence, he brought his arm up and covered his face, mumbling a disgruntled, “Must be dreaming.”

She didn’t dare move as he fell back asleep—except for her thumb, which resumed its soothing motions as she thought of all that had happened today. It wasn’t an overstatement to say that everything had changed. Even if he never remembered any of it, she would.

And she would forever be thankful for it—for the way a child’s vulnerability had allowed her to see past the enigma of the man: his jealousy, his grief, his guilt and _love_. Not only that, but it had allowed her to recognize her own feelings, her own love… for Red.

She forgave him.

She loved him.

And as soon as he woke up, she would tell him.

Everything was about to change again.

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie, I started giggling like a maniac when I pictured Red literally running away after witnessing the - very platonic - hug between Liz and Ressler 😂😭
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
